Life's, uh, little lessons
by HiddenAngel29
Summary: A few new students are brought to the Xavier institute. Will their training be enough to help them get home when a survival skills expedition goes horribly wrong? (may go PG-13 later. Co-author Dimonah Tralon. X-men - Marvel. Twins and Allie - ours.)
1. Runaway

It was a warm humid night when he ran away. I didn't understand why, at first. The only thought running through my head was that he was leaving and I had to follow. I didn't notice at first that his voice had been altered, or that the way his feet fell sounded different. I didn't even think twice before I ran out the door to follow him. He was my brother and my best friend. We were just minutes apart in age, and we went through a lot of the same sorts of things at the same time. We watched each other's backs, listened to each other. He was my personal support and I was his. Without that, I'd be lost.

So that's how I found myself running into the woods behind my house that night, without anything but the bit of cash I had in my pockets. I'm glad I wasn't smart about it though. If I'd been thinking, I would have packed for both of us, or at least grabbed some of my savings money, but that would have taken just a little too long. He was already pretty far ahead when I got outside. Besides…he wouldn't have been able to wear any of his old clothes anymore anyway.

"Dang Minnesota summer," I muttered, swatting at a swarm of mosquitoes that decided to mob me all at once. I was getting eaten alive. My arms and my back and…okay, my whole body…was itching so bad it was driving me crazy. Thank goodness I'd gotten the hearing and Peter didn't. He would have heard me for sure. Oh, his ears worked fine. They were perfectly normal. Mine however…..they worked better than normal. Impossibly better, actually. Peter's other senses are what works absolutely fantastic for him. I was having problems remembering to stay downwind of him. I'd called out to him once, but…he just ran faster. I heard him fall then and curse. I think his feet got tangled in something. Anyway, Mom would have been shocked at him for the word he spit out. Seriously, when Mom's disappointed with you….Guilt City. That was the last thing we ever wanted.

It was hard to keep up with him, but not as hard as it could have been. He sounded like he was clumsier than usual. Not that he was a klutz to start out with, but he just couldn't seem to walk right for some reason. It sounded like he was trying to re-learn it with different feet. At one point, he slowed down a bit and tried to be extremely quiet, but he should have known better.

To be honest, I don't know how we possibly held out our little chase so long, but I didn't catch up to him until the next evening. I think it was desperation. He was desperate to keep out of sight, and I was desperate to catch up to my brother. Peter gave up running just as it started to get dark. From what I heard, he paused and just sort of fell to the ground in an exhausted heap.

"Thank goodness," I whispered to myself with a sigh of relief. I was just about to give up myself, I was so tired. Nothing in this world could have prepared me for what I would find when I got to where he lie. Gone was the image of my brother as he'd been before he ran away. He wasn't the purple-haired guy that used to braid my hair every once in a while with the promise that I wouldn't tell anyone. Oh, the purple hair was still there, alright, but he just didn't look _human_ anymore. Correction…He looked like some sort of sci-fi movie monster. His skin was a grayish purple all over. Huge bat-like wings had sprouted out of his back and a long, almost reptilian tail stuck out the seat of his pants. His fingers looked like they ended in claws. His ears had become pointed, pupils like those of cats, and I was almost certain he'd have fangs. Then I discovered my thoughts of him having different feet was way too close to the truth for comfort. They'd become elongated and looked as though they were designed for walking on the toes. I could see from the scratches on the heels that he'd tried walking normally.

All I could do was stare and mouth wordlessly while he watched me. Fear showed plainly in those dark violet eyes I used to know so well and I was pretty sure he was smelling my own fear. I wanted to scream. I wanted to turn and run. But…he was still my brother…if anything, he needed my help now more than ever. So…biting back the urge to just head for the hills in a mad panic, I slowly walked toward him, careful not to break eye contact.

"…Peter…?" I asked hesitantly, "are you okay?" He watched me from the ground a moment longer before shaking his head a little. Of course he wasn't. Neither of us were. We were tired and we were hungry and the mosquitoes wouldn't leave us alone. His eyes widened as I sat down beside him. To be honest, it was all I could do to keep myself from just collapsing like he did.

"Get some sleep," I told him, struggling to restrain a yawn, "I'll take first watch." Though my eyes burned, I was determined to stay up to make sure nothing snuck up on us. With a grateful expression, his eyes closed and he quickly fell asleep. I don't know how long I lasted. It was a terrible fight, fending off the sleep that wanted to take me away. In the end it won. When I woke up, I discovered something heavy and leathery draped over me awkwardly. It felt almost bony in places, but it kept some of the mosquitoes at bay and protected me from the slight chill of the morning. In my drowsy state, I didn't even think what it could possibly be. My eyes were still closed against the light. I wanted to sleep a little longer, but the hard and lumpy ground denied that. After another second, I remembered _why_ I was sleeping outside on the ground and I opened my eyes.

The strange blanket that covered me wasn't a blanket at all. It was a gigantic gray-purple bat wing. I carefully lifted it off me so I could get up, then turned to look at the source of the wing. There was my twin brother, right behind where I had been lying and facing the other way. He was curled up under his other wing with that new tail of his wrapped around his knees. He'd always been protective of me. My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly to remind me how empty it was. I laughed as Peter awoke with a start.

"What was that?" he asked, frightened. He looked around wildly to find the source of the sound.

"A horse," I answered with a smirk.

"A horse?" my brother looked confused for a moment, "It didn't sound like a horse…"

"Okay, it wasn't a horse. But I sure could eat one," I laughed. My stomach growled again and his did likewise. We looked at each other. How were we supposed to get something to eat? Frantically, I began to search my pockets and came across the money. My brother searchedthepockets of his now torn jeanstoo, butthey were empty.

"Well…it looks like we've got seventeen dollars and ninety-two cents," I told him after a quick count, "know where we are?" He shook his head slowly. After a little bit of arguing, we decided to do some exploring to figure out just that.

We must have walked through that forest for hours, Peter occasionally on all fours. He told me his calves kept getting sore from walking on his toes and that he was having trouble figuring out his balance. I guess I could see why. The tail and wings were probably heavy, and he kept shifting them awkwardly. After a while of watching him as we walked, I called for a stop. With my artist's eye, I helped him find a way to hold the wings and tail that he didn't look or walk so awkward. He freaked out a little bit when I first grabbed the end of his tail. He said it was weird beyond description. Same with the wings. I didn't understand it, but hey, I wasn't the one who transformed.


	2. Discovered

Just in case you weren't aware...The X-men title isn't mine (meaning Cyclops and Nightcrawler). Angela and Peter are. I mean...it's obvious, ain't it? I mean...yeah.

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Eventually we came to a road and, luckily, a gas station. The first thing I worried about was food. It took a lot of restraint to just buy a little stuff. Hot dogs and potato chips never tasted so good to either of us. And we nearly cried for joy drinking the huge bottles of water I bought. After our little meal, I went to call mom, even though Peter was completely against it.

"Hello?" came Mom's voice. She sounded strained. Almost as though she'd gotten less sleep in forty-eight hours than we had.

"Hi Mom," I said. I was pretty sure she burst into tears.

"Angela! Oh thank heavens! Where are you? Are you alright? Is Peter with you?" That was her worried tone of voice. Heck, it'd be obvious to anyone. She would have kept going like that if I hadn't interrupted.

"Mom, I'm okay. I'm with Peter, we're both fine." Okay, so that was a little bit of a white lie. We were starving and tired and my twin, well…he had some new and unusual problems that I don't think Mom knew about. I could hear her catching her breath on the other end.

"Sweetie, where are you?" she asked after a moment. I couldn't tell her that. Peter would have been furious with me, and I didn't want to have to track him down again.

"I can't tell you…" I said regretfully, running a dirt-caked hand through my snarled hair, "nobody took us or anything…Peter ran away and I followed him, and Mom," I added, hearing her begin to protest, "we'll be okay. You know I've got my ears and Peter's got the eyes and nose. We'll be careful. I've got some money, so I'll be able to buy food for a while until we…figure things out." She started to talk, and I cut her off again. I was about to start crying myself, but I made my voice remain even. Any longer and I'd probably end up telling her exactly where we were. "Mom, I've got to go, but I'll call you again when I can. We love you." Then I hung up and returned to where Peter waited just out of sight in the woods. I sat beside him and he hugged me tight while I bawled my eyes out. That was probably the hardest phone call I'd ever had to make. I knew she was worried sick, but I couldn't tell her anything. She wanted us to come home. It was obvious in her voice, but Peter couldn't go back, and I couldn't leave him. It was hard enough on Mom that we were mutants. That little detail made her worry about us all the time. It had been obvious since we were ten when our hair changed color, then when we got our powers at fourteen. What would happen to her if she saw Peter's new transformation? She'd lose it! I don't know if Dad could even comfort her. He didn't have as much trouble with our mutation. He was a sci-fi junkie. Mom was a worry wart, and with good reason. Especially with all the anti-mutant propaganda floating around and the whole political debate about mutant registration laws.

Over the next two days, we stayed in the woods near the gas station. In one of our explorations, we came across a lake-shore, surprise, surprise. After all, it can only be expected in Minnesota, land of ten thousand lakes. If you look long enough, you're bound to find one somewhere. Peter was getting more used to his new form, which was really good, and I'd bought a small fishing kit to help the money last a little longer.

It was late on the second night when we were sitting at a campfire and eating some slightly torched fish that we got our visitors.

I don't know who sensed them first. They were upwind and none to careful about being quiet. It's possible he smelled them right about when I heard them. We quickly hid behind trees. There was no way we were going to be caught. What if they were mutant-haters?

I thought there were two, and, from the look that crossed my brother's face, I was pretty sure he expected two also. However, only one man entered the little clearing where the campfire still blazed merrily. I looked at him, then turned to Peter. The same thought was going through his head. Who's the weirdo wearing his sunglasses at night? The man looked around him, and a flash of red reflected off the lenses.

"I don't think they've gone very far," he said to someone behind him. His voice was smooth and strong. I logged it into my sound memory.

"Nein," replied a slightly raspy tenor voice, "they left their fire going." Whoever it was had a German accent. I put that one in storage too. I wished he'd step into the light so I could put a face to the voice, but he kept just out of my visual range, and I guess just out of Peter's too. My brother frowned, looking at the shadows. Well…time for me to get to work.

"I'll be back. Don't worry about me," I whispered into his ear softly so only he could hear. Then, with an evil smirk, I ran through the trees to get to another angle.

"You go that way, I'll go this way," said the weirdo with the shades. He pointed in one direction, then another. "Call me on the communicator if you see anything." I had to act. The direction he'd given his unseen friend was the direction Peter was in. I heard him shift nervously, but I think I was the only one.

"Leave this place," I said, using the voice of an old man I'd talked to once. It was a perfect imitation with a little bit of an echo added. The one I could see whipped his head around to look where the voice had come from. I moved on to another spot while he stood motionless. Once there, I chose the voice of a young cousin.

"Please go…leave us in peace…" I echoed that one a bit too and gave it a sound of complaining. Shades stood a little tensely, watching where my voice had come from last. The German guy in the shadows was moving toward me. I could hear it. I ran to another place and used the voice of a former co-worker. She'd been my friend and bought the whole hair-dying bit I gave her. Of course, she'd actually dyed her hair blue not long after that.

"No…" I said with her voice. I tried a slightly faded effect on that one and threw in a bit of panic to the tone. Hey, why not? It was a good opportunity to experiment. "You shouldn't be here…"

"Do you think…?" The faceless wonder in the shadows seemed to be asking for a confirmation about something.

"Yup," replied the other with a nod, "that's one of them." Wait…one of what? I was freaking out a bit. Did they know about us!

"Turn back," I said as I ran, using Shades' voice, then switched to the German's, "Never return!" Big mistake. I saw the one turn to run at where I had been, and I heard the other one running also. Crap! They were going to catch me!

"Peter!" I yelled in my own voice, "get out of here! Hurry!" Big mistake number two. Rather than making his escape, I heard him running toward me on all fours.

"Hold on!" came the smooth strong voice behind me as I continued running, "we're not going to hurt you!"

Yeah. Right. I kept running, but I tripped on the root of a tree. Shades entered my field of vision and I screamed. I covered my head in fear and suddenly I found Peter standing over me in a protective stance. His wings were spread out to their full extent and his tail lashed from side to side behind him.

"Leave her alone!" growled my brother fiercely. That was not a sound I'd heard from him before, and apparently the stranger wasn't expecting it either.

"Nightcrawler, hold back!" he yelled to his companion as he stopped. I heard the other one pause. Shades raised his hands to show he was weaponless. "We mean you no harm. We're here to help you." He took a step forward.

"Stay back!" Peter warned. I slowly got to my feet and stood closer to him. I was frightened and had pretty much no natural defense. The one called Nightcrawler stepped forward in the shadows and I shied away from the sound. Peter's eye flicked that way. He hadn't heard it, but he was aware of my reaction.

"Call off your friend," Peter said, low and dangerous. The footsteps retreated a little, and I relaxed a bit. They ended suddenly with a sort of strange _bampf!_ sound. A faint scent of sulfur wafted over to us. My brother looked like he was about to gag from the odor. Almost as soon as that sound ended, another echoed it from near the guy with the sunglasses. What the heck was that!

"Cyclops, what now?" The whisper from the German reached my ears. How in the world did he get over there? He had been…but now he was… How the crap did he move so fast without me hearing him run! Peter narrowed his eyes at the one now called Cyclops. What did he see? I cursed my eyes, wishing I could see as well as him.

"Come out where I can see you better," he demanded. Cyclops nodded to the shadows.

"If you say so," answered Nightcrawler in resignation, "please do not be frightened by my appearance." He stepped forward into the faint fire-light seeping between the trees. I clung to my brother's arm and gasped. The stranger had the appearance of a blue demon with pale, glowing eyes. A thin, wiry tail with a spaded tip wove from side to side behind him. I couldn't see him very clearly, but I knew my brother could. He was shaking very slightly, but he stood his ground.

"I am a mutant, like yourselves," he explained desperately. I could hear the pleading in his voice. "We have been trying to find you to take you somewhere you will be safe."


	3. Debate

Once again...Disclaimerness. The X-men are marvel's Allie is, well, Allie's. Anyway, this is the beginning of Allie's introduction. Please don't hate her! She has reasons for being how she is! Just...hold tight until chapter eight...It's already being written.

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"Mutants can be dangerous! If we don't keep tabs on them, what's going to stop them from taking over the world?" I mentally cheered her on, although I thought the whole "taking over the world" thing was a bit extreme. My debate class was having a mock competition to practice for the big debate tournament that was coming up in the next few weeks. The topic for today's debate: Mutant RegistrationIs it good or bad? I was ecstatic when I heard the topic, until I was assigned to be on the opposing side. Hence the mental cheering. Now, don't get me wrongit's not like I'm massively anti-mutant or anything. I think that there are probably a few good mutants out there, but a majority of them don't like us normal humans. It's almost as though they think that they're secretly better than us or something.

One of my teammates suddenly nudged me. "Hey," he said. "You're up." I nodded and walked to the front of the room. I didn't have any notes with me this time, because, quite frankly, I could care less about this debate. I was on the "Against" side, when I was really for Mutant Registration. We weren't getting graded on this, so it didn't matter to me at all.

"I don't think that we should have Mutant Registration because it's an invasion of privacy. Besides, if the Mutant Registration Act is passed, who's going to make the Mutants register? Nobody is going to go out and enforce the law. So there's really no point in passing the act." I sat down. You would think that with the horrible job I did my teammates would be mad at me, but most of them were for the act anyways.

As we were all getting ready to leave at the end of class, the teacher called me over.

"You didn't do your best today, Allie," he said. "Any reason why?" I sighed, and tried to think of the best way to put it.

"Well, to be honest, I didn't care for the topic I was opposing. I'm all for Mutant registration, minus the invasion of privacy; I think it's a really good idea. And since we weren't getting a _grade_ for it, I decided that it wasn't worth the effort." He nodded understandably.

"I was afraid that we would run into something like this with this topic. The only way it would be fair was to assign people." I nodded.

"Yeah, I know. Look, I've gotta go. I don't want to be late for my next class." He nodded.

"Alright. See you tomorrow!" I waved as I left the classroom. I had to practically sprint to be on time, but that's fine with me. I like to run after school a lot so that I can stay in shape. Plus, you never know when someone could try and kidnap you and you have to run as fast and as far as you can.

Walking into the classroom, my heart just about stopped when I read the board. TEST TODAY was written across it.

_Oh crap! We have a test today. How could I have forgotten about that? I'm going to fail! I can't afford to fail!_

Sitting down at my desk, I reached into my bag and pulled out a wooden number two pencil. I tapped it nervously on the desk, fighting the urge to bite my nails. Guys don't like chewed off fingernails. It's a bad habit that I have when I get nervous.

When the tests were passed out, I wrote my name at the top and looked at the first question as I chewed on my thumbnail. _Something about a train crash. I don't know when the two trains would meet up with each other. Oh man. I'm gonna bomb this test. There goes Harvard University. Next question. Wait, the trains didn't crash? Third question. Where'd the donkey come from? I thought they were talking about trains. _For awhile I just sat there, reading the questions and just getting more and more confused and worried. I ended up chewing off all of my fingernails in the process. As I was tapping my pencil, I noticed that there were some brown spots where I was holding it. They almost looked like burn marks. My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and I looked back down at my test. My confusion increased as I noticed that the paper was also turning brown were my fingers had been. _What on earth? I _know_ that I don't have dirt on my fingers._ Suddenly, I wasn't feeling too good. I raised my hand.

"I'm not feeling so good. I think that I need to go home." The teacher nodded, knowing that I wouldn't make stuff up like this. After all, I was obsessed about getting into a good college.

"You can take a different version of this test another time," she told me. I thanked her, picked up my stuff, and left the classroom, still wondering what was going on.

I slid into my car, tossed my bag onto the front passenger seat, and started it up. As I backed out of my parking space, I decided to not stress about what had happened with the pencil or with the paper. I had enough to stress about, what with the test that I had almost failed. It looked like it was going to be an all-nighter for me once more.

I pulled into the driveway about twenty-minutes later. Grabbing my bag, I headed inside, making a bee-line for the kitchen When I get stressed, I get hungry, and I eat a lot of junk food. That's another reason why I go running a lot. I seem to have this knack of getting stressed out a lot; therefore, I eat a lot of junk food. I don't want to put on a lot of extra weight, so I go running.

In the kitchen I found a note from Mom, asking if I could start on dinner for her, and that she'd be home fairly soon. I got out a pot and started some water boiling. Walking over to the chair where I had put my backpack, I pulled out my notes and started studying. About eight minutes later, I heard the water boiling so I grabbed my package of RamenChicken Flavorand headed back over to the stove. Unfortunately, my hands were shaking slightly for no reason at all (or so I thought), so when I opened the package, the little pack of seasoning popped out and landed on the ground. I promptly bent over to pick it up. In doing so, however, I bumped the handle of the pan in such a way that it flipped off the stove, spilling the boiling hot water all over my back. I screamed in surprise, and what I thought was pain, until I realized that it didn't hurt in the least. The water was warm, but it wasn't burning me in the way it should be.

_What the crap! _I continued screaming for a moment in fright, but they quickly diminished into squeaks of confusion. I backed away from the stove, stunned, and leaned against the table. First my pencil and test get weird burn-like marks where my fingers had been, then a pan of steaming hot water fails to harm me. What was going on? This was far from normal! Something strange was going on, and I wanted to find out what.

It was at about this time that my mom came home from work. She came into the kitchen and saw me freaking out next to the table.

"Honey, are you okay?" Mom asked, then her eyes widened. "Allie, the table!" I let go and whipped around. Looking down at the table, I saw a smoking, darkened hand-print. The doorbell rang as I looked at my hand in horror. It didn't even register in my mind until someone yelled my name.

"Allie!" The voice was not a familiar one. My head whipped around to see two women standing behind me. One was a red-head the other was a dark-skinned woman with white hair. Both wore what looked like black leather uniforms, the white-haired one had an added cape. _Cool cape,_ I thought. I shook my head. Who were these people, what were they doing here, and how the freak did they know my name!

"You _are_ Allie, are you not?" asked the darker woman. She had a strange accent that I couldn't place.

"That depends on who's asking," I said suspiciously. I was beginning to panic. Again. This day was not going well. Let me rephrase that…This was the worst day _ever._

"My name is Jean Grey," said the red-haired woman, "and this is Storm. We were sent by the Xavier Institute. The professor there understands that you have a bit of an…unusual talent." I raised an eyebrow.

"My story writing is unusual?" I asked. I loved to write stories in my spare time, and hoped to be an author one day. Although, I had no idea how they had found out about it.

"Um…not exactly," she said, grinning cryptically.

"We'll explain on the way there," Storm said.

"On the way where?" I asked. Jean smiled.

"To the Institute of course." She turned to my mom. "I _do_ hope that's alright. We'll come back to get her things later." My mom looked like she was going to object, but then she seemed to change her mind.

"Yes, that's just fine," she said. "I love you, Allie. Be good, and remember who you are." Storm raised an eyebrow at that, but otherwise remained motionless. I just rolled my eyes. At least one thing stayed the same: Mom was just as weird as ever.

Storm led the way out. Parked in the middle of the road was a black…helicopter?

"You guys came in a helicopter!" I cried. I was _not_ getting in that thing. I don't do heights.

"We're well trained. You'll be perfectly fine," Jean said soothingly. For some unknown reason, I found myself believing her, so I climbed in.


	4. Creepy

I don't own the X-Men or those characters, but me an' Allie do own our originals. Please don't hate us...we just write the stuff...

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I couldn't believe how technologically advanced the helicopter was. For the time being I forgot about how high up we were. After a few minutes of silence, Jean spoke up.

"I know you're a senior in high school, but how old are you?" she asked.

"Eighteen," I replied. She nodded.

"What kind of classes are you taking?" Jean wanted to know. I thought about for a moment, then rattled on about what classes I was taking and what I thought of each. After I was done, Jean shifted in her seat a little to look at me.

"You mentioned that you wrote stories. What kind do you write?" I grinned. She'd found my weakness. For the rest of the flight, I talked about all the little stories that I'd started in my (very little amount of) spare time. Jean seemed to be actually interested, unlike other people I had told about my various plot ideas. Somehow, I managed to forget I was even flying. I must have been distracted by talking. Suddenly, there was a slight thump. The helicopter had landed. That hadn't been nearly as bad as I expected.

When we all climbed out, I found myself standing on a helipad behind a red brick mansion with white trim. My eyes widened in disbelief. The place was huge! My bet was that there were hundreds of rooms, and maybe servants too. The lawn nearby was well-kept, and the flowers closer to the building bloomed gorgeously. Whoever did the gardening really knew what they were doing. There was even a forest on the property. A forest!

"Let's go," Storm said firmly, "you'll want to talk to Professor Xavier before settling in." Jean nodded in agreement. So, with the two women leading the way, we went inside and walked down a corridor. I was surprised to see it so empty, but then, I realized, this was probably a private hallway for teachers or something like that. Maybe most students just avoided it like the plague. After a minute, we arrived at an oak door. Jean walked right in. I gaped at her. She should have at least knocked to make sure he wasn't busy.

"Ah, thank you Jean, Storm," came a man's voice. It was somewhat deep and, though I hadn't even seen the guy, he sounded pretty nice. What was I thinking? He sounded almost like a favorite uncle or something…the kind of guy that could make just about anything better. The two women smiled a bit.

"Allie, please come in. Storm, would you mind waiting outside to show her to her room?" No, Storm didn't mind. I walked into the room alone and Jean closed the door behind me. I had to say, it was a really nice office. A large mahogany desk stood in front of huge windows with maroon drapes. I was pretty sure I could see a decent-sized balcony through them with white metal railings. Bookshelves, also mahogany, lined the walls, packed with thick volumes of what were probably scientific studies and classics or whatever. I couldn't help noticing that the textured walls were painted plain white to counter the rich wood.

After looking around the office a moment, my eyes finally landed on a bald man in a wheelchair near a bookcase off to the side. He wore a tidy looking suit that was a tan-ish color and a navy blue tie. Heavy-looking gray eyebrows hung over blue-eyes. A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth. It took me a moment to realize he knew who I was, but then, he was the one in charge, so he _should_ know who's coming, shouldn't he.

"So…uh…what kind of institute is this?" I asked hesitantly. I watched as he turned his chair to face me and wheeled it forward.

"This," he said with a vague sweep of his hand to indicate the mansion, "is the Xavier Institute for the Gifted."

"What do you mean by gifted?" I asked. My eyebrows sank over my eyes in confusion. I didn't think I was all that "gifted," unless he was talking about my stories, but even those weren't all that great.

"No, I don't mean writings or academic gifts. While we do strive to cultivate knowledge in the minds of the students, we are especially suited to train them to control and use genetically inherited gifts. Namely mutant powers."

I burst into laughter. "A mutant training ground! You're running a mutant training ground!" The hilarity suddenly wore off. "Oh my freakin' land… You're running a mutant training ground… The girl on the debate team was right…" They wanted to take over the world! I stared at him with my mouth gaping open, and my knees were feeling wobbly.

"I'm afraid you've misinterpreted. We are not trying to take over the world," he chuckled slightly, "our mission is to promote human-mutant relations."

"Okay, that's getting really creepy. What are you doing? Reading my mind!" I was freaking out. That was the second time he'd said something about what I was thinking. My hands were starting to shake.

"Allie, please calm yourself," the Professor said patiently, "my power is telepathy. However," he added quickly, "I will not pry into your personal thoughts without permission in the future and I will never alter your thinking. Please don't touch the desk."

"What?" I froze where I was. I had been about to lean on the desk for support. This was all too much information all at once. And mutants…I couldn't be one of them…could I?

"Take a deep breath. I need you to calm down." His voice had turned soothing, as though to help cool my nerves. Obediently, I took a breath and closed my eyes. It took a couple of minutes, but when I finally calmed down and opened them again, he was still there, smiling slightly.

"Good," he said with a nod of approval, "you see, until you are trained, your powers will be activated by high levels of stress. To be specific, when you are frightened or angry or such, the temperature of your hands increases monumentally." He continued to watch me for my reaction.

I stared at my hands as though I'd never seen them before, like they were alien toasters or something. Then the thought struck me. That would explain the burn marks on the pencil and test, and how the table almost started on fire without my noticing. But wait…how did he know about my powers? Was he reading my mind now? I looked at him suspiciously.

He sighed. "You're probably wondering how I knew about them, but I believe you've had enough shock for now. Storm will lead you to your room. You can either rest there or wander about the mansion. Just take care what you touch. And please try to remain calm at all times." With that, Storm came in, called by Xavier's telepathy, from what I suspected, and I was dismissed to see my new room. I couldn't help hoping the stuff in it was fire-proof.


	5. Shocking

A/N: don't own X-men. Allie owns Allie, and Angela owns the Twins. 'Nuff said.

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After her talk with Professor Xavier, Allie was shown her room, where she took a short nap, then was allowed to explore the school. Ororro, as it turned out Storm's real name was, led the way to the main entrance, and left her there to go where she'd like. It was enormous. Two impressive-looking staircases swept up to the second level on either side. Coming down one of the staircases was a scruffy-looking man with his hair combed back to somehow form two points. Well…he looked normal enough. Maybe he was visiting…or perhaps he was one of the less freakish or dangerous ones. She stared at him for a moment. He was kinda hot. Okay, so maybe a little on the short side, but not too short. He had to be at least a couple inches taller than her. Allie couldn't help noticing he was rather muscular too…and toned.

"What are you lookin' at, kid?" he asked as he came to the bottom of the stairs. His voice was low and gravelly. There was a slight accent to it that might have been Canadian. The girl looked away quickly, embarrassed that she'd been caught.

"Sorry," she mumbled apologetically. She rose a hand to bite her nails, only to be reminded that she'd already chewed them off. The man rose an eyebrow at her and sort of grunted before starting to walk away.

Overhead there was a sudden noise sounding very similar to a stampede. Her eyes followed the progress of the sound as it crossed the ceiling one way, then heard someone yelling in panic before crashing into a wall. The Canadian cowboy, as Allie already thought of him, scowled up at the ceiling where the crash had been.

"What was that?" Allie asked. The noise started again going the other direction, followed again by the same scream and crash.

"The Twins," he grumbled. He'd been watching the ceiling as well, only, more like he was hearing something else in it. The thundering noise took another turn and soon a teenaged girl appeared at the top of the stairs, running for her life and squealing like a little kid. Her hair was long and fire-engine red with a black streak. It was absolutely unnatural! In one fearless move, she grabbed the railing for a fast change of direction and slid down the banister to the main floor.

"Logan!" she cried happily, hiding behind the scruffy man. She was really short. She must have been maybe fifteen, judging by her face. Sixteen tops. "Hide me! Hide me!"

The man rolled his eyes in exasperation. Allie stared at her, too, for a moment. The younger-looking girl grinned cheerfully at the newcomer. Once she noticed the expression on her face, she frowned.

"What? Do I have something on my face again?" she tried to wipe away some imagined spot on her cheek. Allie shook her head in disbelief.

"Uh…no…it's just…" Allie pointed at her own hair.

"Oh this?" the girl with the crimson locks tugged at a strand, "totally natural." She probably would have kept talking, but the thunderous noise of someone running interrupted and she fell quiet with stifled giggles and hid behind Logan. Whoever was running was headed toward the stairs. Allie wasn't even sure if she saw right. What ran across the top of the stairs was someone…some_thing_ that looked like a gray-purple gargoyle. As he passed the staircase the short girl had gone down, he tried to stop and skidded right past it and out of sight. Well, if anything, the hot-handed one knew where the screaming had come from now.

"Angela, give me back my image-inducer!" he yelled, coming back into view. Allie blinked in shock. Her eyes hadn't lied.

"Sorry bub, she's not here," the red and black haired girl said. Only, to Allie's further shock, it was Logan's voice she was using. Logan didn't seem very appreciative of it either, as he spun around to look at her.

"I told you to cut it out!" he growled at her. She didn't seem to be as intimidated as she should have been. Instead, she just giggled and said sorry, again in his voice, as she ran off again.

"Come back here!" the purple figure on the second level barreled down the stairs and after her on all fours. He only paused for a moment before heading through the same door to wave and say hello before taking off again.

It took a moment for Allie to realize she'd grabbed Logan's arm in a death-grip. As soon as her fingers loosened a little, he tore himself free of her grasp and pointed his thumb at the same door.

"The twins," he explained, "got here 'bout two weeks ago." The girl's eyes were caught by something on the arm she'd grabbed. Right where her hands had been were two angry red marks with blisters forming. As she looked, the blisters shrank and the burns vanished. How had that happened?

"Welcome to the institute," he said gruffly before turning and starting to walk away. Allie stared after him, stunned. Why did he get burned? …And how the heck did he heal so fast! 'Oh yeah…' she remembered, 'I'm a mutant…the professor said that's my power…' Her thoughts were turned to the possibility that maybe burns she caused were temporary before she realized that might have been his power. That would also explain why he hadn't yelled at her. He knew it'd go away. Suddenly she looked up again at the retreating figure.

"Wait!" Allie jogged after him to catch up. She almost grabbed his arm again, but pulled her hand back at the last second. She did _not_ want to burn him again. His head turned to look at her, a frown of annoyance flashing across his rugged features. Okay…Hot but scary…

"What." It was more of a demand than a question. The girl balked a little.

"I…I just wanted to know who you are…" She shuffled her feet a little out of nervousness.

"Logan," he said shortly with a slight snort, "they call me Wolverine." Again he faced forward and resumed walking. 'What sort of nickname is Wolverine?' she thought puzzled, '…Come to think of it…what sort of nickname is Storm? Actually…I don't think I want to know.'


	6. Introductions

**Notes from Angela!**

Okay, consider this my disclaimerness for this chapter.  
Sorry 'bout how short it is...but believe me...the next chapter will be worth it. XD

Oh yeah...I got a comment on chapter 2concerning Nightcrawler...and to that commenter...Thank's for the info! I did not know that about him. -covets giveGodtheglory 's X-men trivia knowledge- However...for the purposes of this story, I'm using a sort of conglomeration of different versions of X-men characters. And, I've noticed, every version of a comic book story is different...so...yeah. But thanks for the compliments and the info.

And thanks to the rest of our readers! We appreciate all your comments! Now...On to the story!19482thirtytwoandahalf

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Almost a week and a half later, early in the afternoon, classes finished for the students at the institute. A new girl had joined their ranks just that day. Peter and Angela, who were leaving from another class room, recognized her as she left her own. Wasn't that the girl who was in the entrance during one of their chases? The red and black haired girl decided she needed to introduce herself. Her brother followed her with a shrug, his image-inducer turned on for the sake of the more skittish students. However, when it was initially set, he chose to keep the purple hair. Strange, but liked to think of it as his trademark. 

The girl was grumbling wordlessly as she walked, clutching her backpack with gloved hands. The twins noticed they were a shiny, silver material like the heat reflecting blankets they'd seen on TV. She'd spent most of the week hiding in the library, trying to stay away from everyone else, and now here she was, surrounded by mutants. A few of them had utterly bizarre hair-styles, and some…well…they had very minor visible mutations. Some had strange colored eyes, a few had naturally strange colored hair, and she was almost positive a younger kid stuck a blue, forked tongue out at her when they passed in the hallways. Mutants everywhere…She was at a mutant training ground…

"Hi!" Angela said brightly in her own voice as she skipped up to Allie. Peter quickened his steps to catch up.

"Hi…" replied Allie warily. She eyed Angela's red and black locks, then the purple hair of the young man who stopped beside her. The girl she recognized. Her eyes widened with realization.

"You!" Allie pointed at the other girl in alarm, "you're the freak that steals voices!"

A very confused look crossed Angela's face. _'What is she t…? Oh yeah…'_ "Oh, I don't steal voices, I borrow them." She grinned widely. Peter shook his head.

"She imitates sounds with her voice," he clarified for the dumbfounded new-girl. Angela promptly stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm Angela, they call me Mimic, nice to meet you." Aw crap. Her suspicions about the nicknames were right.

"Yeah. Right. I'm Allie," she turned to go, but Angela skipped after her.

"Hey, I'm sorry if me an' my brother freaked you out the other day," she apologized lightly, still grinning.

"Sure, whatever," she chuckled falsely, turning and walking away again. Under her breath, at a volume she didn't think anyone would hear, she added, "you're still freakin' me out."

"Hey! That wasn't very nice!" the red hair girl squeaked angrily, scowling darkly. Her sharp hearing had brought every word to her ears, and she was far from happy. What was this girl's problem? Peter looked at his sister wondering what she'd heard. She wasn't that easy to tick off, and she was really kind of ticked off. Allie spun and looked at her, startled. There was no way that girl could have heard her. Angela was still staring daggers at her.

"Chill, Angela," Peter told her. He put a protective arm around her shoulder. "What did you say?" he asked Allie with a frown.

"Nothing!" the girl with brown hair exclaimed defensively, "well…nothing she could have heard…" This was met with a scowl from both twins. "Who are you, anyway?" she demanded.

"I'm her twin, Peter." He steered his sister around and the two started walking in the other direction. Allie rolled her eyes after them.

"Yeah right," she muttered to herself, "her brother's a gargoyle." The pair stopped, and Angela slowly looked back with a wicked grin.

"Oh Peter, brother dear," she said overly sweetly, "it seems someone thinks you're supposed to be some sort of freak." He gave her a puzzled look for a moment before understanding, and a grin with matching wickedness, crossed his face. Allie's jaw dropped. She _heard_ her!

"Is that the problem, then?" he said, just as sickeningly sweetly, "I think we can fix that." With an emphasized flourish, he raised his wrist and touched a button on his watch. Before Allie had a chance to blink, the purple-haired human figure was replaced by the all too familiar gargoyle she'd seen that one time… The books that had been in her arms tumbled to the floor. If she weren't wearing her new gloves, those text books would have been toast.

"Come, sister dear. Let us be off to the kitchen," the winged mutant said, waving his arm in the air. Arm in arm, the two left Allie, gaping after them, to go find a snack.


End file.
